




















































































































































































• 














































I 











































bib/ 



“Strange vje never prize the music 
Till the sweet-voiced bird has flown ” 


I 

I 


OCj 2o ISi J 



Copyright applied for. 














WHAT IS HOME WITHOUT A 
MOTHER? 


What is home without a mother 
With her tender love and care? 

All your sorrows, all your troubles, 

All your woes she’ll gladly share. 
When your comrades all forsake you, 
And it makes you feel so sad, 

Is it not your dear, sweet mother 
Who will cheer and make you glad? 


What is home without a mother, 

With her dear, sweet, loving smile? 
Always working, ever toiling 
For the welfare of her child. 

When your father gets impatient 
And is as cross as he can be, 

Is it not thy dear, sweet mother 

Who speaks cheering words to thee? 


What is home without a mother, 
When j^ou’re as sick as you can be? 

Is it not thy dear, sweet mother 
Who watches closely over thee? 

Who is it, then, that tells you 
Of that glorious home above, 

And the way in which to reach it 
And the dear, sweet Saviour’s love? 

For He’s promised to come again, 
And great things He will do. 

Is it not your dear, sweet mother 
Who unveils it all to you? 


What is home without a mother, 
When you have been led to sin, 
And they take you to the “station,” 
Where you’re safely locked within, 
When all the world seems against you, 
And the trial will soon begin? 

Is it not your dear, sweet mother 
Who stays by through thick and thin? 

© Cl A 534381 


Oh, boys, my friends, I tell you, 

You who have a mother dear, 

You should stay faithfully by her, 

Who is your only light and cheer. 

You should do all you can to please her, 

For you may not have her long; 

As perchance no one may cheer you 
When your dear, sweet mother’s gone. 

—Harry J. Reid. 


A PECULIAR THEME 

I. 

Groping around in darkness, 

Not the darkness of the night, 

But the terrible, terrible darkness 
Which affords no heavenly light 
I was seeking and longing for something 
That would help me to reach the goal, 
But it seemed there was nothing to be found 
To feed my hungry soul. 

II. 

Now here, now there, 

And in most every denomination, 

Hoping to find some ray of light 
As I wandered o’er this creation. 

Some had more light than others, 

But none did I find complete, 

Till at last, when nearly discouraged, 

I was led to Jesus’ feet. 

III. 

They told me how our loving Saviour 
Was nailed to the cruel cross, 

And if we all would accept of Him, 

He would save us from being lost. 

They told me He was soon coming 
To take the righteous home to glory, 

And since then it has been my desire 
To tell Salvation’s Story. 



IV. 


I ask them about my mother, 

And my friends that have been laid away, 
And they said that they were sleeping 
Till the resurrection day. 

With the trump of the Archangel 
The dead in Christ shall rise, 

And together with the living righteous 
We’ll meet our Saviour in the skies. 


V. 

Most people believe their friends 
Are in Heaven and forever on the wing; 

But they showed me so plainly 

Where the Bible says the dead know not anything. 
They said we must not keep Sunday 
On account of Christ’s resurrection; 

But keep God’s Holy Sabbath, 

Then we will have his special protection. 


VI. 

Christ made and blessed the Sabbath, 

And rested upon that day; 

And in the entire Bible 

We’re told of no other way. 

They told me how we would walk 
The beautiful streets of gold, 

And live in those pearly mansions 
Through ceaseless ages untold. 

VII. 

They said we would be reunited 
With the faithful of our relations, 

And eat of the Tree of Life 

Which is for the healing of the nations. 
They said the time would not be long 
That we would have to wait, 

If we were only faithful 

We would enter the pearly gate. 


VIII. 


They said we were to live in Heaven 
A period of one thousand years; 

And then come back to this earth made new 
Where there is no sorrow, nor tears. 

They said we all shall receive a starry crown 
Most beautiful to behold, 

And the stars represent the ones 
We’ve brought into the fold. 


IX. 

They said we would each build us a beautiful mansion 
With all manner of precious stones, 

And with our loved ones 

Occupy these beautiful homes. 

And then we will plant our vineyards 
And eat the fruit thereof, 

And there will be no discord, 

Everything will be harmony and love. 


X. 

We will all have beautiful harps 
With which to play upon and sing, 

But the most glorious of all, 

Jesus will be our King. 

—Harry J. Reid. 


THE WOODLANDS 

I love to wander through woodlands 
And o’er fields of green, 

It seems to me there is no place 
Where nature’s so serene. 

I love to roam about the hills 
And by the babbling brook, 

And have my sweetheart by my side, 
With her contented look. 



I love to hear the rustling leaves 
And the hum of the noisy bees, 

And to hear the songs of the beautiful birds 
That flutter among the trees. 

I love to pick the flowers 
That by the brooklet grow, 

And to watch the little fishes 
As they’re swimming to and fro. 

I love to swing my hammock 
Beneath the shady trees, 

And there to have a quiet nap 
In the cool, sweet-scented breeze. 

I’ve traveled o’er this great, wide world, 

And have sailed upon the sea, 

But the woodlands and the babbling brook 
Are the sweetest of all to me. 

—Harry J. Reid. 


THE BREAK OF DAY 

How can we keep on going in our old, sinful way 
When all signs foretell we are nearing the break of day? 
O, brothers and sisters, let us awake, and realize where we 
stand, 

And from now on cease from sinning, and press on to the 
promised land. 

Only a little time to wait, and then our journey will be o’er, 
And then we will be with Jesus, to live for ever more. 


A little talk with Jesus, O how it lightens our cares, 

For the dear old Bible says God hears and answers prayers. 

When we lay all our cares upon Jesus, and let Him our 
lives control, 

There is nothing in all this world that is so restful to the soul. 

Let us all press onward and upward, with but one purpose 
in view, 

Of winning souls for the Kingdom of Heaven till our life’s 
work is through. 


—Harry J. Reid. 



DEAR OLD DAD 


What is home without dear old Daddy, who has left this 
world o’ sin, 

And the weeks and months are rollin’ by, and no pay-roll’s 
cornin’ in? 

And then the food gets scarcer, till there ain’t no sight o’ 
grub; 

And then Ma has to make a livin’ playin’ on the old wash-tub. 


Things at first go kind o’ easy, till Ma’s back, it feels so bad, 
And it’s then our thoughts are ever turnin’ back to our dear 
old Dad. 

What is home without dear old Daddy, when our shoes 
are wearing thin? 

Before we always had ’em, and now no pay-roll’s cornin’ in. 


I could have a bran new suit, and a bicycle, too, to ride. 

But we don’t seem to get nothin’ now, since dear old Dad 
has died. 

Sister, she could have a nice new dress, and Ma could have 
a bonnet 

And whatever trimming that she liked, she could have them 
on it, 

But now our dear old Dad has gone, and we miss him 
every day, 

And he always gave Ma his envelope whene’er he got his pay. 


What is home without dear old Daddy when you’re feeling 
kind o’ ill 

And no pay-roll’s cornin’ in to pay the Doctor’s bill? 

We all love our mother, and we say she is the best friend 
we ever had, 

But our home, it doesn’t amount to much when we’ve lost 
our dear old Dad. 


—Harry J. Reid. 


NEARING THE END 


Nearing the end, yes, nearing the end,—the end of this 
world’s great strife. 

If we realize we are nearing the end, why not prepare for 
the future life? 

Even tonight may be too late with God’s people to cast 
our lot, 

And what an awful thing, in that great day, to have said, 
“I know thee not.” 


We all love the star-spangled banner, and many long years 
has it waved, 

But we will have to enlist under the banner of Christ if we 
ever expect to be saved. 

—Harry J. Reid. 





























































